


Altered Dream

by Trichatte



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blooper made canon, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Respawn Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-21 00:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trichatte/pseuds/Trichatte
Summary: A string of corruption weaves through the world, worming its way into those most vulnerable.When Dream dies, hit by Tommy's minecart, he's allowed a moment of reprieve, gladly engaging into a playfight, quickly losing all sense of wrongness in the following minutes.The next time Dream dies is at his own hands, a simple accident in a poorly hidden room with a few half empty chests and a TNT he miscalculated the explosion force of while lightning it. He's faced with the respawn option before he even registers the pain, throwing himself back to life immediately.---There's something wrong.So he figures it out.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

A string of corruption weaves through the world, worming its way into those most vulnerable. 

When Dream dies, hit by Tommy's minecart, he's allowed a moment of reprieve, gladly engaging into a playfight, quickly losing all sense of wrongness in the following minutes.

The next time Dream dies is at his own hands, a simple accident in a poorly hidden room with a few half empty chests and a TNT he miscalculated the explosion force of while lightning it. He's faced with the respawn option before he even registers the pain, throwing himself back to life immediately.

He opens his eyes far, far away, no armor, no three numbered levels of exp, inventory fully empty, head and code clear and refreshed. Tommy's left at Logstedshire, a quick glance at the chat confirms the presence of only one death message. Yet his shrieking laughter still resonates in his head as if he is still there, a few meters away. A familiar sound that would've allowed him to relax, if not for some new weird high pitched notes. New messages flood the chat making fun of his death, distracting him. 

Right, he needs to get back. He has a job to do. Tommy sounds like he is choking, sending a stab of annoyance through Dream. He was burning his meager earnings because of Tommy's own stupidity-

He shakes his head, bringing to a stop that line of thought. He's just mad at himself for dying, admittedly, in a rather idiotic way. Waving away the chat spam, he types in a teleportation command, placing him near enough to where he died. Not his preferred method of transportation, but getting back quickly is more important right now than conserving appearances. Half a minute running, and he jumps down in the remains of the hidden room. His things are all laying on the floor to his relief, untouched by Tommy who's still cackling, leaning against a wall.

Dream should give him a moment. He should take all of his remaining things so that he doesn't forget just who is in control here. He should be a friend. He should be a hurt friend, what with Tommy keeping secrets, as if he doesn't trust him, doesn't believe in his justice. He should show that Tommy hurt him. He should be merciful, kind, Tommy's going through a lot right now.

Dream watches himself destroy the nether portal, and Tommy is pleading with him, all traces of previous laughter gone. He replies something and Tommy's expression falls further. This feels wrong, somehow. Yet, this was what he had to do. Probably. 

Confused and thrown off by the wrong  _ wrong wrong everything is wrong _ coursing through his veins, Dream quickly leaves Tommy alone (as he should be) and wanders alongside the ocean.

It's peaceful, a sunset painting his surroundings in shades of orange. Surprisingly, the anxiety recedes by itself, leaving him to breathe in the frigid air in a numb calmness. 

He is about to shrug off the unease completely, content to not think about anything, just stand there until he has to be somewhere else. Yet, it occurs to him, what if it was a more general glitch than just him getting funky about his accident?

That, that wouldn't be good. As much as he doesn't want to deal with this right now, the inner workings of the system and all hiccups in it are his responsibility, no other way around it. It would be best to just look into it now than have a bigger problem later.

The sun shines right in his eyes, its position a perfect angle to not be obscured by Dream's mask. Dream, realizing it was too bright to be comfortable, does a 180, looking over the snow biome he was in now. Purple swirls half hidden by a massive deep dark structure catch his eye. Another portal. 

How convenient. He makes his way to it, jumping effortlessly over a deceptively sturdy snow cover.

A few nauseating seconds later, he's in the Nether, body jarred by the sudden change in temperature. The feeling of unease returns, though nowhere near as strong as when he'd just died. Simply a weight on the back of his mind, yet a part of him is glad he decided to act on it.

Dream doesn't recognize this specific area of the nether, but it doesn't really matter. Walking a bit in a direction he hopes is opposite to the usual familiar nether paths until he can't see the portal, he takes note of his new coordinates. He's even further away from the main portal than he expected. The Nether around him completely untouched, red netherrack walls naturally forming a cliff over an ocean of lava. Perfect. 

A crafting table which he retrieves from his once again packed inventory is placed a little bit away from the edge. Dream makes a single chest, glad he always carries wood on him. His pickaxe breaks through the netherrack besides the crafting table in the matter of seconds, creating a small hole, not unlike those he'd make for Tommy to throw his armor and other things in before blowing them up. 

Waving away the imagery, Dream places the newly made chest at the bottom of the hole. He takes off his armor, frowning while doing so. He's used to its weight and presence. Feeling the warm air updrafts from the lava ocean's weird.

When was the last time he walked around without the netherite armor on him?

His armor and everything else he has in his inventory goes into the chest, leaving him with merely a couple blocks of netherrack, just enough to cover the hole. The crafting table remains to be a landmark for the hidden chest. This is merely a temporary measure, making sure his things won't despawn or be found by someone else while he's doing his little experiment. No one would even know to look for them in the first place.

Dream walks to the edge, looking down at the lava. 

He really, really, doesn't want to do this, a part of him realizes. Which should've been weird in itself, he never had any problems with respawning or dying in the first place. Unless the death was a dumb accident - he'd had a fair share of those, the earlier stunt with the TNT only another entry in a long list. This time though, it would be planned, and he already took care of his belongings, so why is his mind screaming at him to turn around, walk away from the edge and forget about this experiment? And, for that matter, why doesn't he simply do that?

That's ridiculous. If there is a glitch, he needs to know about it. 

With the heavy sense of responsibility on his mind, Dream jumps. The liquid fire engulfs him immediately, digging into his health. For a few painful seconds Dream stares into the impossible orange glow surrounding him as he's going deeper.

_ Dream tried to swim in lava. _

He opens his eyes at his spawn location for the second time this day.

The sense of unease is back with a vengeance, making him restless, unable to cling to one thought.

First things first, he needs to look back over to see if there really was a glitch. While dying, he didn't notice anything out of line even though he specifically kept an eye out for any irregularities. This leaves little hope that he'd find anything wrong post matter, but responsibility demands he check anyway. 

So check he does. Spends at least ten minutes staring at flawless lines of code. To make absolutely sure that there's indeed nothing out of place with the respawn mechanic, or because concentrating on the code could break through the numbness and restlessness mixed in an impossible tornado inside him. 

The numbness is spreading, once again, though not nearly as fast as while talking to Tommy.

Talking to Tommy, right, that's what he just finished doing, right before wandering off and finding by accident an intact nether portal. Convenient, seeing as Tommy didn't have access to the Nether anymore.

... Why didn't he?

Because he messed up, because Dream messed up thinking Tommy was beaten down enough when there was still some fighting spirit left in him. Isolate him further, deprive of human contact and give a fake hand of help from time to time to make him attached.

No, what? That sounded so wrong, yet it was exactly what he's supposed to be doing, no? Maybe he was a little too harsh back then, but that's understandable. Anyways, he could alleviate the measures slightly on their next hang out, maybe apologize for going so far. He doesn't want Tommy sad, does he?

Doesn't he?

What is wrong with him?

The code, invisible to any onlooker is still present in his vision. A beautiful arrangement of letters and numbers dictating the rules of the worlds. A distant part of him remembers his usual delight upon seeing these, buried now under those same numbness and unease he's already tired of. Dream idly flicks over the text again, relishing the reprieve from heavy sluggish thoughts. Neat and perfect as always, bending the world to take the base untouched code of any dead player choosing respawn and restore it to their last placed spawn location. A reboot of sorts.

Dream exhales sharply, head suddenly racing with the same zealousness as the wrong  _ wrong _ feeling still dancing in his veins. A reboot, a fresh start without anything but memories carrying over from the last save state. Then why does he feel so out of place, why did he let the unnatural calm take over him during his interactions with Tommy?

There _i_ _s_ something wrong with him. Thinking back to any previous events is hard, mind immediately getting cloudy. It's so, so tempting to let the fog win, the peace alluring. 

Dream isn't so far gone, yet. He shoves any thoughts of the past away, clinging to the code still in front of him and the relative lucidness it provides. A deep breath. He can't let the corruption take over completely, his only chance of figuring it out centered on an accidental death. Who knew when he'd get the chance to respawn again, with the numbness very insistent he kept living.

As it is, he has to continue this cycle himself, until he can resolve whatever it is dragging him under. His things are all still safe in the Nether, so it wouldn't be any trouble. Though he should probably retrieve them sooner rather than later, nothing good would come out of walking around unarmed and unprotected.

Dream digs his fingers in his arm, feeling the numbness recede a bit in front of the pain. Ground rules, he mentally snarls at himself. No armor, no weapons. The easier it is to die, the better. 

When it seems like even the parts of him unhappy with that decision quell down, he releases his arm. The marks left are still stinging, yet the sensations are muffled by the fog steadily filling his head.

Gathering the meager remains of clarity, Dream enters a /kill command for himself. Hesitation fills him before he can execute it. Maybe he's overreacting, making up a nonexistent problem on an empty place.

A spike of fear jolts through him. It gets quickly swallowed by numbness, yet it's enough for him to give the final mental push to the command, the death quick and almost painless.

_ Dream fell out of the world _


	2. Chapter 2

He blinks to find himself back in the same place. Mind much more clear, and he didn't even realize it had gotten that bad again. The lack of control grips his insides with a cold fear, yet it also fills him with determination to put a stop to this.

At least, there is no doubt now. His code's corrupted, somehow. A strong enough corruption to latch onto him even through respawns, quickly regaining lost ground. 

He needs help. 

As if on cue, the chat jumps to life. A lot of people seem to be on the server. This time, the messages are predominantly curious instead of sarcastic. Although there is quite enough of that, too. Dream supposes it's warranted, with him dying three times in a row and the last message being quite hard to obtain in regular conditions. He pointedly ignores any messages preceded by Tommyinnit.

Reminding himself that he's running on a limited time, Dream quickly scrolls through the chat. Nobody seems exceedingly worried, so he doesn't bother with an explanation, instead shooting a quick:

_George_   
_GeorgeNotFound: What_   
_vc?_  
_GeorgeNotFound: why_

Dream's mind stutters to a halt. Since when do they need a reason to talk?

Mindful to keep it vague enough for the general chat, he replies.

_Need to talk. important. Sapnap with you?_

The world shifts ever so slightly, and suddenly he's connected to them, his ears catching some mutterings even though he's nowhere near the two.

"Hey, where are you two?"

There's a long awkward pause. Just when Dream thinks he won't get any answer, George gives him a curt "El Rapids".

The name strucks a familiar chord within him, and Dream brings up a teleportation command. He frowns as he gets to the coordinates part. El Rapids-

He pinches himself realizing that thinking about the location brings back the mind numbing fog. This is quickly becoming very frustrating. Instead of trying to extract information from his useless brain, Dream simply teleports himself to George's location. Jarring for both of them, if George's jump accompanied by a high pitched shriek is anything to go by.

"Dream! Did you have to do that?" It's only a little lower in volume than his cry of surprise, which still resonates in Dream's head. Sapnap seems to be stifling giggles. 

Dream shrugs, caught in the moment. His mouth stretches into an involuntary smile as he watches George shoot an unconvincing look of betrayal to Sapnap. The latter's only spurred into full blown laughing. 

Almost as if nothing changed, as if he's still mediating between the two as they chase each other instead of building their house, sometimes halfheartedly trying to corral him to join a side.

George turns back to look at him and the illusion shatters apart against his cold eyes. Warm laughter replaced by desperate screaming, harsh taunts, brash actions.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Dream?" George's voice pulls him out of the spiral, though it does nothing to alleviate the discomfort. "Since it was apparently important enough to come here? I thought you made it clear you had nothing else to say."

There's hurt in his voice. Sapnap must hear it too, as he approaches George, adopting a defensive position against- him? Both eye him with distrust, all levity abandoned. _Don't think, don't think, don't think about it, you can't-_ but, god, does he want to. Dream clenches his teeth in an effort of staying in the present, leaving his questions and instinct to protect not acknowledged. 

His friends subtly straighten themselves, hands curiously empty. _F_ _or now,_ whispers his mind.

"I need help," Dream gets out, breaking invisible barriers. 

"Unexpected," calmly paries George. Sapnap doesn't comment, doesn't react in any way.

"No, no, it's really important-" he tries but gets immediately interrupted.

"Well then, why are you here?" George stresses on the word 'here', "Eret's the king, he deals with the important, he should be able to do whatever you throw at him, right? 

Dream's confusion snatches the familiar concepts of _Eret, crown, crowns, George, he was safe_ , and strives to dig further into his memories. Though Dream resists, he can feel the numbness awakening, bringing with it snapshots of previous altercations. The castle looming, all power centered on a fake crown for a just ruler. Eret standing up to him, more for jest with both of them knowing who called the shots. A new coronation, disrupted by an audacious assasination. Burnt wood and ashes where George could have been.

The numbness pulsates in rhythm with what Dream can feel remaining of himself, erasing the limits between them in a moment of pure rage towards those that dared! Insolents, unwilling to see reason, attacking, griefing George's house! 

Horrified by the direction they- he almost picked, Dream snaps back to the present. 

George keeps going, "Or are you going to accuse me of acting like a baby again? Do you think we all need a reminder of what you've said barely days ago? After taking away my kingship-"

"Please, stop," implores Dream, accidentally letting some desperation slip into his voice. He's so close to being pulled back under again, dancing on the edge time after time. "Stop, we can do this later, just," He belatedly realizes that no one was talking anymore, all attention on him. Frantic, he looks around until his eyes land on his friends' hands, still empty. "Just kill me," he rushes out while he still can.

"Are you kidding, Dream?" Sapnap replies, outrage clear in the wild gestures, "What kind of sick joke is this?

"I'm not kidding, Sapnap. My code is corrupted. Something, something bad is happening with me, and I can't stave it off for much longer. I've checked, there's nothing wrong with respawning, you could probably get Bad or- or Philza to check on that too." Explaining is good. Explaining means he can fixate himself on something that isn't either the lacking past or his death.. Explaining means he won't be killed right now, while he's still talking, gives him additional precious seconds. "But there is something wrong, I can't even remember what is. Respawning at least sets it back, even though it's still in my head and I _don't want to die_." He's not sure anymore which part of him is talking. Words are rushing out, almost nonsensical, jumping over each other in an effort to keep him talking, buy him more time.

Realization sets in. He'd almost miss it, leaving himself to be manipulated like a puppet. Complex in actions, but, at the end of the day, there are still strings controlling him outside of his influence. Dream subtly shifts so his hand is out of sight of Sapnap and George, squeezing a fist until it stings. He feels alien in his body, unable to trust himself but not yet knowing how not to. Was this how Tommy felt when Dream guided him to believe his world was different?

Sapnap seems to have accepted that Dream suddenly isn't talking anymore and takes a step forward. "Really? That's what your sad sorry story is?" he questions, heavy sarcasm coating his words. Another step forward. "You got a 'corruption', and now you want us to kill you, for the," a quick glance at the chat, "fourth time in the past hour! What kind of fucking game are you playing at now, Dream?" Another step, and now Sapnap's right in his personal space, almost close enough to touch. Dream dares hope. "Whatever you think you are doing, leave us out of it! We're not going to do it," he abruptly ends. For a few seconds he stares right at Dream's eyes, what's visible of them through the mask at least, then turns around and walks away with a dissatisfied sigh. 

"No, wait," George interjects, until now content carefully observing the exchange, "I can do it. It's not that a big of a deal, right?" His little contorted vindictive smile seems to suggest otherwise, but at this point Dream doesn't care enough to reply. "You did ask us to," he adds and raises his hand, a diamond sword appearing in his grasp. Dream stands frozen in place. Though that's alright, as George crosses himself the distance between them. A swift movement, trained from years of play fighting together, aimed to kill quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Dream closes his eyes at the last second, unwilling to keep looking at his expression. The feeling of his life going away in two single hits is familiar, death quick and warm.

_Dream was slain by GeorgeNotFound_

The silence is stifling, contrasting to the conversation turned little shouting match earlier. George and Sapnap are either intentionally being silent, or, most likely, have already left the call. 


End file.
